crammed to over-flowing
your ego-filled boxcar
rocks along rails to nowhere
fueled by a narcissistic maw,
devouring the conversation,
spewing black clouds of I - I - I
the pounding clang and clack
numbing the senses, silencing the
still, small voice whispering
humble yourself
so that one day
you may be exalted
Do you not see the faces of those you call friend? The knowing glances, the shifting seats, attempts to change the topic? The drifting away as you draw near?
Or maybe you do, but
are helpless to change course
needing to be MORE - MORE - MORE
on a desperate journey to validate your existence because,
no one else does?
